


Mutterseelenallein

by greenmountaingirl



Series: Kuddlemuddel [7]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 04:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17053253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmountaingirl/pseuds/greenmountaingirl
Summary: Various glimpses of Wolfgang's life before and after Kala.





	Mutterseelenallein

**Author's Note:**

> Mutterseelenallein: You feel so alone in your soul that even your mother’s soul is not with you. 
> 
> And I can't fall asleep  
> Without a little help  
> It takes a while to settle down  
> My ship of hopes  
> Wait ‘til the past?  
> It takes an ocean not to break  
> “Terrible Love” - The National

**Age 7**

“Shhhh, Wolfgang.” Mama glanced down the hallway. Wolfgang could hear his father snoring off last night’s vodka and strippers. “ не буди своего отца.”  _ Don’t wake your father _ . 

Wolfgang rolled his eyes and continued to help his mother roll out the dough for the  _ Lebkuchen.  _ Even though it was nearly May and not Christmastime, mama had promised that if Wolfgang wanted the cookies after his concert, he could have them.

The kitchen was comforting and warm despite the damp May morning, and smelled of melted butter and sugar. Mama hummed under her breath as she showed Wolfgang how to cut the cookies evenly. Her makeup was smudged and caked in the premature cracks of her face, but she was the prettiest woman Wolfgang had ever seen. 

_ “Хорошая работа, просто так, дорогая.”  _ She cooed at him.  _ Good work, just like that.  _ He mimicked her pronunciation and she ruffled his hair. 

“Don’t fucking teach him that Commie garbage.” 

His father stumbled into the kitchen in a sweat-stained undershirt and undone jeans. He leaned himself up against the wall and stared at Wolfgang. 

“He’s a German boy. German boys don’t learn fucking Russian.” 

Before Anton could make a move toward Wolfgang, Irina placed herself between them. “Can I make you some breakfast?” 

Wolfgang’s father grunted. He shoved by her to sit at the cracked and stained formica table. Wolfgang flinched at the motions of his father’s hands. 

“Don’t be a pussy, boy.” 

“Don’t talk to him like that, Anton,” his mother’s voice was quiet but firm. Wolfgang glanced at her, worried that she was standing up for him. Nothing good ever came from standing up to Anton. 

Anton glowered at her and lit a cigarette. “I work hard for us to have a nice life here. I don’t need my  _ russische Schlampe _ of a wife making us look like fucking Commies by teaching our boy Russian.” 

His voice wasn’t loud--yet--but Wolfgang knew he was angry by the rate at which his cigarette was turning to ash. 

“Wolfgang--” his mother didn’t look at him as she said it--“go to your room.” 

Wolfgang ran for his room and pressed his back against the door. It was only a minute before he heard the first slap. His mother didn’t cry out or fight back as Anton raged. Wolfgang cried--silently--as the beating continued. He stuffed his fist in his mouth to muffle any sound. The silence in the apartment was only punctuated by gasps of shock and pain from his mother and slurs from his father. 

He waited-- alone--for the cries to end.

\----------

 

**Age 15**

“Mr. Bogdanow, I don’t know who you conned into helping you cheat on the exam, but if I ever find out what you did to them, you  _ will _ be sorry.” 

Wolfgang’s face burned and his hands shook as his teacher turned on his heel and marched away. He had done well on a test--apparently too well. He didn’t cheat. He didn’t need to cheat. It was literature. He was good at literature. But now he’d flunked it, all because his teacher thought he was like the rest of his family: a bunch of  _ verdammte Idioten. _

Wolfgang stormed out the school’s front gate and started to trudge his way home. Felix caught up to him only a few blocks later, lit two cigarettes, and passed one to Wolfgang without asking. 

“It’s bullshit, Wolfie.” He took a long drag, coughing on the exhale - “They can’t fail you for being smarter than you should be.”

Wolfgang kicked at a broken bottle and said nothing. The frustration of being alone in his intelligence ate at him. The only person--other than Felix--who knew he wasn’t an idiot was dead. His mother had read him half the Hauptschule assigned readings before he was ten. Of course he knew the answers. 

Felix continued to rail against the totalitarian powers of teachers, the government, and any other authority figure that kept them from living to their “full fucking potential”. Wolfgang reluctantly smirked in return, even though a hollow opened in his chest. 

 

**\----------**

 

**Age 19**

The bass thumped through Wolfgang’s chest and made his heart beat in rhythm to the music. He had lost his shirt at least two drinks ago. He had a phone number drawn in crimson lipstick on the left side of his chest. It did not belong to the girl he was currently dancing with. 

Felix had dragged Wolfgang out of his Uncle’s stilted and silent dining room as soon as dinner ended. Steiner had tagged along, and was already passed out under the table in the corner. Felix had surrounded himself with women in a deep velvet banquet, regaling them with some story that seemed highly amusing and entirely fabricated. 

Wolfgang danced without a break until the DJs switched. Then he made his way through the throngs of people heading back to their table. He flopped in to the end of the banquet and listened as Felix got to his latest punchline. The girls shrieked with laughter and Wolfgang watched Felix soak in their attention. 

“Wolfie!” Felix grinned at him. “Ladies! This is my brother--Wolfie.” 

“Hello.” Wolfgang poured more vodka for both of them. 

They all said their names, but they barely registered in Wolfgang’s drunken haze. Steiner rustled under the table and hauled himself up to a chair. 

“Wh- wh-” Steiner looked around, trying to get his bearings. Wolfgang watched with distaste. “Why the fuck am I in this fucking shit hole?!” His voice squeaked and cracked as he grabbed the bottle of vodka and took a swig from it. 

Wolfgang watched, his mouth filling with the bitterness of rage.  _ Why the fuck did I let him come? _

“Felix--you fucking cocksucker! How did you manage a table in this crowd?!” Steiner glanced at Wolfgang. “God, you’re a pale motherfucker.” The crowd in the bar surged back to the dance floor as the newest DJ climbed up on the stage. The noise, unfortunately, didn’t make it harder to hear Steiner. “Where the fucking hell did this gorgeous buffet of ladies come from?” He leered at them. They shied away, crossing arms and slouching into the safety of the banquet. Steiner leaned closer to a small brunette with a black silk mini dress on. He ran his hand up her thigh before she could recoil. “Wanna go to the back room, darling?” 

Wolfgang moved before he could think, hauling Steiner up and away from the table and the girl who trembled with fear. “Shut the fuck up. And don’t touch her.” His voice was low, but the menacing tone cut through the rising noise of the crowd. He tightened his hand, feeling his fury vibrate through every muscle in his body.  

“Get your  _ hands _ off me, fucker.” Steiner slapped drunkenly at Wolfgang’s hands. Wolfgang lifted Steiner until only his toes are on the floor. He could feel the weight of Felix glaring at him. “Father will fucking end you.”

Steiner had berated, abused, and acted like a general ass for Wolfgang’s entire life. They had fought, wrestled, and beaten the shit out of each other for years. But for some reason, the idea that Sergei had any control or power over Wolfgang shattered his self control. He didn’t see red. He didn’t lose sight of the world. But he found himself hitting Steiner. Again. And again. And again.

The violence felt almost cleansing, as it washed away the constant loneliness and isolation. Not even having Felix in his life filled the hole in his chest like inflicting pain on Steiner did then. 

Felix grabbed Wolfgang’s arm, hauling him away. The bouncers peeled Steiner off the floor, his nose obviously broken and at least one tooth missing. Felix dragged Wolfgang away, alternately pushing and bullying him through the staring crowd into the cool night air. 

“Fuck’s sake, Wolfie. I know Steiner’s an ass, but weren’t our lives hard enough?” Felix dropped Wolfgang on the curb two blocks from the club and inserted a cigarette into his mouth. 

Wolfgang did nothing as he watched Felix attempt to hail a taxi. The fight had left him deflated, and he felt numb, empty. He wasn’t sure if Felix could understand that Wolfgang was fighting something inside him, and Steiner had just been a punching bag. 

 

**\----------**

 

**Age 25**

“Hurry up  _ Bruder _ .” Wolfgang stood in the kitchen and shouted towards the bedroom. Felix took longer than most women to get ready for parties. Wolfgang lit a seventh cigarette out of sheer boredom.

“You can’t rush fashion, Wolfie!” Felix’s voice came, muffled from inside their shared closet. “Your fucking dreary monochromatic clothes depress me.” He emerged, holding up a Hawaiian shirt with alarming shades of magenta in it and a pair of yellow pants. 

Wolfgang couldn’t help but smirk. “At least I’m on time.” 

Felix ignored him and picked out another egregiously turquoise frilly shirt.  

Twenty minutes later -- and forty minutes late -- Felix and Wolfgang walked into the Bogdanow mansion that was extra opulent in honor of Steiner’s birthday.

“Why the fuck didn’t we just go to the club, Wolfie? These guys don’t exactly  _ love _ you.” Felix grabbed shots off a passing tray and handed one to Wolfgang. “And they hate me.”

Wolfgang sighed and glanced around the room. He had to get an assignment from his uncle. He had hoped Felix would refuse to come, so that he knew Felix was home and safe, not in danger of being Sergei’s latest pawn. 

“Just a few minutes. Don’t talk to anyone.” Wolfgang gave him an affectionate warning look before he waded through the crowd of high-class strippers, low rent gangster enforcers, and paid help. 

“Wolfgang!” 

Wolfgang turned to see Steiner waving him down. He was wearing a three-piece suit that was mostly unbuttoned and a crown. A  _ crown _ . Felix and Wolfgang were living off of toast and beer, and Steiner had a fucking gold crown. 

“Steiner.” Wolfgang nodded. “Happy Birthday.”

“Don’t be such a fucking wet blanket, Wolfie!” Steiner stumbled slightly, and the crown fell over one eye. “LULU!” Steiner waved down a petite blond girl with a lot of hair and very little clothing. “Lulu,” he swung his arm around her shoulders and pointed to Wolfgang--“This is my cousin. Take good care of him.” 

Without a backward glance, Steiner stumbled into the embrace of the crowd. 

“Mr. Bogdanow,” her accent was minimal, but he could just detect it in her inflection of his last name -- Russian. Her dark brows and her delicate features reminded him of another Russian girl who hadn’t been much older when she moved to Berlin. She leaned suggestively against his chest. “Where would you like to go?” 

He stepped back and shook his head. He dug around in his jeans pocket for his only remaining twenty and pressed it into her hand. “Buy yourself some dinner and get some sleep.” He didn’t look back.

Wolfang finally found Sergei, ensconced in an enormous black leather chair with two young girls perched on his lap and a cigar in one hand. 

“You wanted to speak to me?”

“Nephew!” Sergei called, obviously intoxicated. He waved the girls away with a lopsided grin and gestured for the doors of the study to be shut. “How is that little shop of yours doing?” 

He asked it as though he cared. As though he wasn’t actively hoping it would fail, so Wolfgang would have to return to working for him. 

“Fine. We paid rent on time.” Wolfgang poured a large vodka from the sideboard. “What did you want to see me about?” 

“A job. A safe. In Bruges.” Sergei puffed on his cigar for a moment, waiting for Wolfgang to respond. “Nothing you can’t handle.” He blew out the smoke through his nose, reminding Wolfgang of childhood fairytales of dragons and ogres. “Steiner goes with you.”

Wolfgang finished his vodka and went to pour another. He didn’t want to work for Sergei. He didn’t want favors or money or jobs from his uncle. He sure as hell didn’t want to take Steiner across the street, let alone on a job to another fucking country.

Wolfgang coughed as he choked on his shot of vodka, throat constricted with the constant frustration and loneliness. He took a deep breath. “I can’t right now, Uncle.” He set down the still full glass. “Next month?”

**\----------**

 

**Age 31**

Wolfgang ground out his cigarette on the black metal balcony and looked down towards the street lamps and party goers. Felix and Dani had tried to convince him to stay out later but clubs -- while still fun -- no longer held the fascination for him that they once did. He had left the two of them to grind to a mix even Riley would approve of. 

_ I miss you _ . Wolfgang let his thought float towards Kala. 

She appeared, rumpled and heavy lidded.  _ I know _ . Kala’s phantom limbs draped themselves around his shoulders. She had travelled to Mumbai for a World Health Organization summit, and had been gone for nearly a week. 

_ I didn’t mean to wake you.  _ Wolfgang turned in her arms. 

_ I wasn’t really asleep; there seemed to be this loud music that wouldn’t stop…  _ Kala trailed off, giggling, as Wolfgang nuzzled her neck and backed her off the balcony into the bedroom. 

Wolfgang knew words weren’t his strongpoint, and being a Sensate had not improved his less than loquacious tendencies. Just like saying Kala’s name–– he had waited until it was the right moment to use those precious words.

_ I am a changed man because of you, Kala Dandekar.  _ Kala grinned impishly and scooted backwards up the bed.  _ I never liked it when men were so obsessed with their lovers, they wouldn’t go out anymore. But I get it now.  _ He pulled off his t-shirt and slipped out of his jeans.  _ It’s like someone can finally match my soul. A piece that was missing for so long. In this _ \--he looked at her, smiling-- _ this curly-haired genius who smells like jasmine. _

_ I missed you, too, Wolfgang. _

_ Thank you for making it so I am never lonely. _

He crawled over her and kissed her until neither of them knew their own names. 

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after my Kala one (Fernweh) but it is not dependent that you read them in order. Thanks as always to my Beta/ TM/ Cheerleader - NightjarPatronus!


End file.
